


a little tipsy on your love

by Macremae



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Diabetes, Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash, Found Family, Frottage, Not Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018) Compliant, Post-Movie: Pacific Rim (2013), Post-Operation Pitfall (Pacific Rim), Praise Kink, Sex Pollen, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:08:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25863364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macremae/pseuds/Macremae
Summary: “Yeah,” Newt says, nodding like this is some kind of fascinating scientific discussion and not the worst day of Vanessa’s entire life, maybe. “You definitely have a lot of adrenaline right now, and probably increased estradiol levels, too. It’s likely affecting your entire endocrine system in an attempt to stimulate reproduction.”There’s a brief, tense beat of silence as Vanessa registers this statement, then Karla and Hermann, and then Vanessa is shooting out her hand for Karla to yank her phone out of her trouser pocket and shove it towards her, frantically unlocking it and swiping to her Dexcom app. The little number on the screen says one hundred eighty three, with two side by side arrows pointing straight up.“Bitch,” she tells it in a quiet, disappointed little voice, which of course is the exact moment her high alarm begins screaming at the top of its lungs.In which our heroines fuck around, find out, and then just fuck.
Relationships: Karla Gottlieb/Vanessa Gottlieb, Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	a little tipsy on your love

**Author's Note:**

> abby and i, it seems, are in an all out war to see who can write the most karnessa porn before college takes over our entire lives, and i am -precursors voice- IN it to WIN it so please comment with ideas i'm a lesbian in theory not in practice because there's a pandemic on :( yes the endocrine system is connected to hormone release yes i opened my world of diabetes binder for this NO i can never tell my endo the reason my a1c is so low is because i do copious amounts of research for vanessa. title from tipsy by chloe x halle bc STREAM UNGODLY HOUR

“Oh good Christ,” says Karla, eyes widening the moment they step into the lab, “Hermann, do pardon my language, but it smells like a fucking meat packing plant specifically for crimes against nature.”

“How astute,” he grumbles, clearly immune to the honestly horrific smell after five years of this olfactory headassery, “you’ve found a metaphor I haven’t used yet. My deepest thanks.”

They glance at Vanessa, waiting for her to complete their usual trio of commentary, but she just winces and shakes her head. “No, I got nothing. It genuinely smells like all of Area 51 traveled here specifically to die slowly, covered inー” she sniffs the air, then fixes Hermann with a look of tragic sympathy, “cheeto dust? Oh, Hermann, baby, you didn’t. We gave you standards.”

“You have hours of detailed audio of my initial disdain for the man. I cannot be held responsible for Stockholm Syndrome.”

Vanessa, rather than debate that point with the hours of memory she has of Hermann furiously consulting her on how to subtly imply he was gay and single, but not come off as, his words, “overeager and loose”, and in her words, “healthily communicating for once”, takes a long, interested look around the lab. She’s only seen glimpses of it before, caught in the background of Hermann’s video chat screen, and the effect of a mad scientist’s basement is certainly apparent. It’s becoming abundantly clear why people were so shocked to discover she and Karla were related to him as they passed through security; Hermann, it seems, has a bit of an earned reputation.

It’s not for lack of trying otherwise, however; there’s a clear divide down the middle of the space, with Hermann’s side a neat, orderly clutter of books, carts, chalkboards, and his desk arranged almost exactly the way it was in their apartment. The multicolored chalk is a bit surprising, but considering the inhabitant of the opposite side, maybe not. 

Newt’s half is… well, Vanessa genuinely thinks if she looks too long at it, she’ll start frothing at the mouth, or shuffling every single page in sight into perfect, ruler-straight piles, or genuinely throw up. It’s so. It’s so fucking dirty. There’s stains everywhere. She can _feel_ the gunk on the floor, and the dried ramen broth splattered on the desk, physically crawling over her skin. How Hermann not only lived with this man, but ended up _fucking_ him on _that desk_ , will forever be one of the great mysteries of the universe that make giving him alcohol a Russian roulette of fun and terrible factoids. 

“Well behold,” says Hermann, sweeping his arm awkwardly at the near-comical dichotomy. “The lab. History’s locker room.”

“I’m starting your Nobel Prize campaign for making it a year,” says Vanessa, and Karla gives her shoulder an agreeing pat. 

“Hermann, no offense meant, but this does explain a thing or two about your smell since you started working here.”

“It doesn’t come out of clothes,” he says weakly. “I’ve tried.”

“Did you just start rolling around inー” Vanessa starts to say, but the intercom above the door makes a spitting, crackling wheeze, and she and Karla jump. 

“Hey, Dr. Gottlieb?” comes a man’s voice she vaguely recognizes as that dude in suspenders who waved at them in LOCCENT. “Would you mind coming down for a second? There’s another section missing from Lady's escape pod data.”

Hermann makes a face she recognizes as his silent groan. “This is the fourth one,” he grumbles quietly, then in a louder voice, “Of course, Mr. Choi. I’ll be right there.”

“You have a man dressed as Elvis running your mission control,” Vanessa says flatly. Hermann raises and lowers his eyebrows in his version of a shrug.

“If Tendo is the strangest thing you’ve seen today, I’ll count that as a win.” He glances at Karla, then back at her. “Would you two mind staying here until I get back? It’ll only take a moment, but it’s quite easy to get lost in this place.”

“Of course,” says Karla, and with Vanessa’s nod, Hermann is striding quickly out the door to his quickly burgeoning career, it seems, as a military base’s designated Child Who Can Work the TV Remote.

“Is he gone?” Vanessa asks, maintaining a pleasant expression until Karla peeks around the doorframe and gives a sharp nod. Her devious grin matches Vanessa’s own.

“You take the cabinets, I’ll take the desk.”

An early indicator that anything romantic between Vanessa and Hermann was never going to work, besides the obvious, was that she took to the role of second sister like a fish to emotional blackmail. The teamup was always the same: Karla kept lookout, and Vanessa would copy down useful bits from his diary, or see if anything had been added to his inner-closet-door shrine to weirdly sexy unthreatening men, or read all his flowery unsent emails/marriage proposals to the super secret not-boyfriend he totally didn’t have (Vanessa couldn’t hack, technically, but for a computer genius Hermann had an entirely predictable password he never changed).

As Karla begins to push aside the clusters of papers on his desk for anything interesting, Vanessa makes a beeline for one of the sets of filing cabinets and opens the top drawer. The notebooks and pages are divided into tabs, named with the subject and color coded by year. Within each subject group are more tabs with specific dates on them, and while Hermann’s anal determination towards rigid structure in his work and personal lives is one of Vanessa’s favorite topics of teasing, she has to admit that his organizational skills are incredible. There are early Jaeger schematics, a few sparse notes in the section about Breach location, and a not-uninteresting amount of space taken up by annotated copies of Newt’s own writings. 

“Oh hello,” she says, grinning, and lowers herself to move on to the next drawer, pushing the top one shut with a _slam_!

There’s the tinkle of glass above her, and Vanessa looks up to see that a large glass jar perched on top of the cabinet has fallen on its side. There’s some kind of bright periwinkle powder dancing around inside, pigmented and opaque. It looks, come to think of it, like a stray preserved sample from Newt’s side of the lab. 

It’s also rolling off the edge of the cabinet.

Vanessa leaps aside just in time to not be brained over the head with it, instead getting a faceful of blue dust as it smashes to the ground at her feet. Her eyes shut tight on instinct, lips pursed as she feels a cloud of the stuff rocket up and settle onto everything it can reach. Including, oh how fun, her entire body.

She hears Karla freeze at the sound, then a gasp. “Oh myー Vanessa!” Rapid footsteps grow closer as she, Vanessa assumes, sprints over to the barest safe distance away and immediately starts panicking.

“Oh my Godー Vanessa? Vanessa, are you alright? Can you breathe? Darling, look at me, do you feel like you’re going toー” She pauses then, realizing Vanessa is keeping her mouth shut to prevent any dust from getting in, and quickly pulls her handkerchief out of her pocket. Karla carefully wipes her lips as clean as she can, then a ring around her mouth. Vanessa spits delicately onto the floor.

“Well shit,” she says, and points at her eyes to indicate Karla should handle those next. She does, taking care not to rub anything in, and Vanessa blinks several times before the room swims into focus.

Her first thought after regaining the last of her senses back is that she has immeasurably fucked up beyond compare, and she’s probably dying right now, and she needs to choose her last words very, very carefully or else Hermann wins a bet. Her second thought is that _Jesus_ he keeps it hot in here.

“I think I’m okay,” she manages, shaking her hands away from Karla to try and get some of the dust off. “Do I look okay? Are any of my limbs on the floor?”

Karla shakes her head, hands jerking about in midair from the effort it’s clearly taking not to frantically run them over every dust-ed inch of her. “Did you see the container before it broke? Was there a label on it?” She pauses, then blinks once. “Decontamination shower.”

“There’s a decontamination shower,” Vanessa realizes alongside her, spinning around to search desperately around the lab for it. There’s one on Newt’s side; a well-worn looking shower head next to an eyewash station, and a little hook stuck on the wall holding a towel. Without pausing to wince at the idea of having to use the same towel as him, Vanessa hurries over and begins stripping her clothes off as quickly as possible, her jeans getting caught on her booties before she gives up and toes them off. Karla returns to Hermann’s desk and opens the bottom drawer, digging out a spare set of clothes that Vanessa knows for a fact will be too small on her, but the spurt of freezing cold water that hits her when she pulls the chain suddenly pushes all thoughts from her mind except _FUCK_.

“Oh Jesus, oh God, oh shit that’s cold, that’s so, so fucking cold,” she yelps, running her hands up and down her body as goosebumps spread across it like a tidal wave. Her hair is in braids, luckily, but she still carefully examines each one to scrub any traces of blue, then gives the ones done close to her scalp a good rub. The water seems to be getting a little warmer, or maybe that’s just the abysmally high temperature Hermann is apparently able to withstand in all his thirty two layers of wool and tweed. Vanessa feels something like an itch just under her skin; hopefully not the beginning of it all falling off, or spontaneously catching on fire. She chalks it up to the panic also causing a low, tingling feeling in the pit of her stomach and soles of her feet.

Her manicure is history, unfortunately, and she scrapes off any polish where dust has been caught in the ridge. After making sure nothing fell on her breasts and stomach, she scrubs a hand in her bush in case anything got washed down into the thick triangle of hair; the movement is a rough, methodical up-and-down jerk across the mound that, honestly, could quite possibly be one of the least sexual things she’s ever done in the area.

However, the moment the barest sliver of Vanessa’s finger brushes across her clit, she feels a jolt of pure, animalistic arousal so much like a punch to the gut, she nearly doubles over with it. She doesn’t, though. What she _does_ is let out a loud, sharp keen that flies over the sound of the shower and echoes in the lab like a gunshot.

Karla’s gaze snaps to her own immediately. That was not a sound a person who just got a lungful of alien dust should be making. Hell, that wasn’t a sound Vanessa usually makes without Karla. They freeze, the water still running over her at a temperature she _knows_ should be unbearable, but her body feels like a furnace with all the wood in the world.

Vanessa takes a careful look at Karla’s face, cataloging the fact that suddenly all she can think about are those thin, perfect lips turning her neck into a Jackson Pollock painting, and switches the water off with a forceful, pointed jerk of the chain. She smooths her voice into one of a woman who is _not_ hyper aware that she’s wetter than she’s ever been in her entire life.

“ _Where’s Newt_.”

* * *

Vanessa assumes, based on things like context clues and the general look of deer-in-the-headlights panic that stumbles onto his face, that Newt didn’t expect to see a six foot one, scaldingly angry femme storming down the corridor towards him, dripping wet and shoved into his boyfriend’s clothes, when he imagined what the day’s events might bring, but it looks like everyone is getting a fun new heart attack right now, and Vanessa’s voice is reaching decibels she wasn’t aware she could achieve.

“Newton Mendelssohn Geiszler, you’d better pick an old god and _pray_ you know how to fix this!” she screeches, Karla following close behind and scowling with only slightly less ferocity. Newt, frozen in place next to a Hermann who appears _very_ confused as to why another sister has apparently raided his closet, visibly gulps.

“Oh boy.”

“‘Oh boy’ is right!” Vanessa leaves maybe an inch of space between them, towering over him as water flies from her hair onto his shirt. “You wanna tell Hermann what you were keeping on _his_ side of the lab? You wanna explain exactly what it does? Elaborate, maybe? Share with the fucking class?”

“Dude, you are really red right now and I feel like that’s not just an anger thing,” he squeaks. Vanessa assumes yeah, she’s blushing pretty hard for various reasons, the least of which being her clit feels so hard right now she could crack an egg on it. 

“Well log that one in your science fair project, bud! Here’s another: _I’m going to fucking kill you_.”

Hermann, clearly sensing and unnerved by the waves of indescribable fury forming Vanessa’s aura right now, clears his throat and puts a tentative hand between them. “Vanessa? What’s going on? Are you alright?”

“Did you know about this?” she asks, rounding on him as the realization dawns that the dust might have been there for safekeeping until… oh God, she doesn’t want to think about it. “Did Newt just pull this out of a Kaiju’s ass one day and you two went crazy?”

“I’ve never examined one of those,” Newt interjects, but Hermann shoots him a glare.

“Obviously both of us are confused as to what you’re referring to, but I assume something happened in the lab?” When Vanessa nods tightly, the glare intensifies. “Newton. What did you forget to secure.”

“Hermann, why the _bloody_ hell do you keep sex pollen on top of your filing cabinet?!” Karla finally blurts out, then looks as if she immediately regrets the words. So do Newt and Hermann.

“I’m so sorryー what?” Hermann chokes out. Vanessa heaves out a sigh that’s more of a wail.

“Okay,” she begins, digging her nails into her palms to stay focused because Karla’s first instinct in times of crisis is to stand very, very close to her, and it’s really, _really_ distracting. “So I was in the general vicinity of your filing cabinetー”

“You were snooping, weren’t you?” Hermann accuses, pointing a finger at her. Vanessa smacks it away.

“That is not important information! I was in range, I slammed one of the drawers shutー”

“ _I knew it_ ー”

“Hermann!” He, wisely, shuts up. “I slammed one of the drawers shut, and there was this jar of stuff sitting on top of it; some kind of really bright blue powder. It rolled off the edge when I did, and smashed on the floor and got all over me, and gathering from the, y’know, _really embarrassing effects I’m currently experiencing_ , I have reason to believe this is all a horrible sci-fi themed nightmare.”

Hermann takes a moment to process this, then realizing exactly where Vanessa was, goes very still. “Newton,” he says calmly, “why was there a sample on my side of the lab?”

“Uh,” says Newt.

“On top of a cabinet containing much of my research? That could be easily damaged by contamination?” Hermann is slowly turning to look at Newt, and Vanessa almost feels sorry for the guy. Almost. “When I have not only specifically ordered you to never get anything even remotely related to Kaiju on my side, but certainly never authorized you _storing it there_?”

Newt gives him a tiny Hail Mary of a smile. “In my defense, I didn’t know it was apparently sex pollen?”

“How could you _possibly_ not know?!” Karla exclaims incredulously. “Look at her! There are very clearly potent effects!”

“Oh baby, I love you, but please don’t make me the center of attention right now,” Vanessa mumbles, her hyper awareness of her wife’s dizzying, tantalizing proximity not decreasing in the slightest. Newt, the little fuckstick, shrugs.

“I mean, _I_ didn’t experience anything like this while handling it, and I definitely got some on me at some point.” He frowns. “I mean, I assume it’s messing with your reproductive system. Are you on birth control?”

“I’m a lesbian, and Karla has a vagina. No. What do you mean, ‘reproductive system’?” she asks. “Like messing with my hormones?”

“Yeah,” Newt says, nodding like this is some kind of fascinating scientific discussion and not the worst day of Vanessa’s entire life, maybe. “You definitely have a lot of adrenaline right now, and probably increased estradiol levels, too. It’s likely affecting your entire endocrine system in an attempt to stimulate reproduction.”

There’s a brief, tense beat of silence as Vanessa registers this statement, then Karla and Hermann, and then Vanessa is shooting out her hand for Karla to yank her phone out of her trouser pocket and shove it towards her, frantically unlocking it and swiping to her Dexcom app. The little number on the screen says one hundred eighty three, with two side by side arrows pointing straight up.

“Bitch,” she tells it in a quiet, disappointed little voice, which of course is the exact moment her high alarm begins screaming at the top of its lungs.

Newt claps his hands over his ears and winces, Hermann only slightly less so after years of desensitization. “Jesus! What the hell does that mean?!”

“My body thinks I’m about to have a sex marathon, and is giving me a ton of extra glucose with no insulin to counteract it because uh oh, I don’t have a working pancreas!” she snaps, stabbing at the button to turn off her phone. “It’s like the dawn phenomenon, only now infinitely worse!”

Newt’s brow furrows. “What’s the ‘dawn phenomenon’?”

“You have six PhDs! Use Google!” She runs a frazzled hand over her head, the usually comforting texture of her tight braids doing nothing to calm her panic. “Oh my God. I can’t call Dr. Elder for this. Like, I genuinely think I might get arrested for spilling government secrets or something. What kind of fucking species makes sex pollen that only works on diabetics? Is this a psyop?” 

Karla, trying to be soothing, runs a hand up Vanessa’s back. She barely bites down a whimper in time, each long, graceful finger separated from her skin by only thin cotton feeling like the side of a hot poker. She wants her _wife_. God, she wants those blunt, neat nails digging into her hips, the feeling of each callused knuckle sliding into her and bending at just the right spot to make her vision go white with pleasure. She wants to kiss her, recite her mouth with her tongue and find the blessed relief of friction against those lean, sturdy thighs; Vanessa feels want almost choking her, and the ache that comes from knowing Karla would give her anything, even what she can’t voice aloud.

She turns to Newt, taking a controlled, deep breath. “Okay. I need you to put on your big-boy lab coat and use that biology degree to tell me how to fix this.” When he opens his mouth to retort, she snaps, “Now!”

Newt closes the hands he had started to hold up defensively into fists. “Alright, alright, geez! Uh,” he shuffles his feet awkwardly, looking up at the ceiling. “So I do have a theory. But I want to preface this with the statement that I respect you as a person and a woman, and I gain no personal or sexual gratification from this, and I’m just making an educated guess as to howー”

“We get it, you took an intro to feminism course, spit it out!” she says. Newt turns his gaze even higher, squinting directly at the buzzing overhead lamps.

“So, uh. There’s always the obvious option.”

“ _Which is_?”

He clears his throat awkwardly. “Um. Well. Clearly you’re experiencing the effects of some kind of mating device, which doesn’t make the _most_ sense considering the eugenicist nature of Kaiju society but hey, maybe it makes the impregnation process easierー _anyway_ ,” he continues after Karla begins glaring at him as well, “I assume the easiest way to cease the effects is just to, y’know. Let nature take the wheel here.” Off their confused expressions, he gives a high-pitched sigh. “Bring yourself to orgasm.”

Vanessa, much to his apparent relief, does not immediately punch him in the face. Instead, she also sighs. “And you really think that’ll work?”

“IーI mean, what it's trying to do to your body right now is essentially force it to mate. The release of oxytocin post-orgasm should probably be enough of a signal to get it to back off?” He winces. “Assuming it only takes one.”

“Oh fantastic,” Vanessa says flatly, the struggle to ignore Karla’s hand on her back increasing tenfold. “Great. Well, based on Hermann’s life choices I probably already know the lab’s key code, so you two have fun and I’ll let you know if I start bleeding out of my vagina two weeks early.” She is _so_ not making it back to the hotel before busting an artery, or at least going a little bit insane.

Hermann and Newt immediately begin to protest, although whether they’re against being locked out of their workspace for at least an hour, or someone having sex in the lab that isn’t them, is hard to say. Vanessa doesn’t really care. Without bothering to argue, she turns and begins to walk back down the hall, focusing on keeping cool and remembering if she packed her compression gloves. She has a feeling she’s going to need them after this.

She doesn’t realize Karla has fallen in step beside her until she almost shuts her out of the lab, realizing at the last second and pausing to let her wife in. Karla walks straight past her to Hermann’s desk, opening the drawer second-closest to the floor and rooting around. Vanessa punches in two-five-two-six on the keypad, then makes her way over.

“What are you looking for?” she asks, and receives her answer when Karla makes a triumphant noise and holds up a small tube of lubricant. Her expression is pained, yet delighted.

“I bloody _knew_ he would keep it in his desk.”

Vanessa rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll never let him live it down. Why’d you get it, though?”

Karla looks at her as if she’s failing to see a very large billboard on a desolate prairie. “Oh darling. You didn’t think I was just going to leave you to face this yourself, did you?”

Vanessa, in fact, did, but for a very scientific reason. “You aren’t, y’know, worried you’ll get some kind of Kaiju-virus?”

“Does Hermann have one?” she answers flatly, and no, he does not, which again, ew, but Vanessa still feels a little thrill at what she realizes Karla’s offering.

“I mean, Newt did mention it could take a while,” she says, offering a hand to help her up and using the motion to pull her closer. Karla’s hand instinctively flies to her waist, and the touch makes Vanessa suck in a sharp breath. Her brain has been a cocktail of five-alarm panic, anger, and steadfastly buried arousal, but with the two of them alone again, the last of those feelings rushes to the forefront. Karla hears her, and, smirking, runs her hand down over her hip to rest where the back of her thigh meets her ass. 

“Yes, he did,” she agrees, digging in her fingers just slightly. Vanessa lets out a whimper and allows her head to drop onto Karla’s shoulder. She takes a step closer, trying to press their bodies together and towards the desk, but Karla stops her. “Oh please no; I cannot do the mental gymnastics necessary for that location. Couch, I think.”

Vanessa chuckles into the soft twill of her shirt. “Leave the lube, then. We really, _really_ aren’t gonna need it.”

At this, she can feel a mischievous grin stretch across Karla’s face, and she sets the tube down to reach under Vanessa’s thighs and lift her up, bracketing them around her waist. Vanessa shrieks, now wholly unable to stop laughing as Karla carries her over to the couch and sits down, keeping her on her lap. She moves her hands up to cup Karla’s face, placing a kiss on her cheek before another longer, deeper one on her lips. 

Karla slides her hands to grip Vanessa’s ass, pushing it forward to grind down into her hips. Vanessa lets out a moan into her mouth and pushes her tongue inside as she lets herself thrust jerkily onto the feeling of Karla’s fingers, which move back downward and over her ass to rest just over her clit, separated by layers of fabric Vanessa suddenly hates with a burning passion. She feels them begin to stroke her through the wool, which is just thick enough to dull the sensation. Whining, she grinds down harder, and Karla pulls away to chuckle against her neck.

“This isn’t so bad, is it? You certainly seem to be enjoying yourself.”

Vanessa snorts, but it loses the effect when Karla grips her with one hand, eliciting a loud shout that pitches upwards. “I’d be ‘enjoying’ myself a lot more if you’d take these stupid fucking pants off.”

“But you look so fetching, darling. Or at least your arse does.”

“Please don’t use British words; you know it ruins the mood.” Vanessa starts to take matters into her own hands, fumbling with the button of (Hermann’s, technically, but also no, heart emoji) her slacks before Karla pushes them away with her free one. She undoes it effortlessly, pulling down the zipper and slipping her hand in to where Vanessa has almost soaked through the fabric. 

“Well this could be a bit of a contributor to your discomfort,” she says dryly. Vanessa rolls her eyes.

“The wool, or the fact that I’m so hard I can’t breathe? Because those were my second least favorite panties; they can stay in the garbage for all I care.”

Karla pokes two fingers between her slick folds, almost sliding past her clit with the mess of fluid surrounding them. She circles it slowly, using the hand still underneath Vanessa to grip and squeeze at her further down, occasionally moving those fingers in as far as they can go. Vanessa lets out a long, low groan, unable to decide which hand to push herself towards, and her brain has become so fuzzy at this point that all she can think about is the deep, aching _need_ somewhere deep in her gut to get _something_ inside of her; for as many of those fingers that she can take to fill her up and _move_ and Karla to keep moving against her, mark her up _mark me up, please, please, I’m yours, just give me what I need_.

Karla smiles against her neck, murmuring, “Alright,” and Vanessa must have started speaking out loud at some point because she begins to suck hard on the dark, sensitive skin underneath her mouth. Vanessa groans and tilts her head back to give her better access, rubbing herself against the fingers on her clit harder as Karla drags her lips down and bites gently at her shoulder.

She swears, _loudly_. “Oh my God yes, fuck, yes, please Karla baby angel I needー put yourー I needー _herzschlag_.”

Karla sucks in a breath against her skinー Vanessa doesn’t pull out the German unless she’s completely gone, and quickly brings the hand squeezing her up to start pulling at the waistband. Vanessa lifts her hips for just a moment, letting her slide them down to mid-thigh, then shouts as Karla returns the hand to where it once was and dips the tip of her finger inside her. 

She doesn’t give her time to be gentleー Vanessa can’t, she doesn’t want her to, and she feels like she’ll burst into flames or explode if she has to wait any longerー and grabs Karla’s wrist to push the finger deeper inside her. Karla lets out a soft moan at the heatー her skin is on fireー around her, and immediately adds another. She pushes them as deep as they can go, then scissors them for a moment and crooks them at their widest apart.

Vanessa grinds down hard on them, almost forcing Karla to press the third inside, and rocks back and forth as they twist and curve upward, sending shockwaves of pleasure into her chest. She pushes herself up, then down and forwards, taking her fingers deeper and pressing against the ones on her clit, which had gone still as Karla’s face grew redder with brazen lust. 

“More,” she breathes out, “more, Karla, Godー faster, please, I know you can go faster, c’mon babyー” She cuts herself off with a sharp moan as Karla’s breathing grows heavier, and Karla flattens her entire hand to rub firmly at Vanessa’s clit. 

She kisses at her shoulder again, mouthing curses against it as she grinds herself against whatever friction her own trousers provide. Without speaking, Vanessa shifts a leg to slot her knee right up against Karla's movements, and feels her sigh in relief. “Thank you, _prinzessin_ ,” she says, and Vanessa moans at the name and the way her fingers begin to pump in and out, curling against her and hitting a spot that makes her hips jump.

She feels Karla’s flat hand speed upー she’s close as wellー and grinds herself down as far as she can until something warm and delicious twists in her stomach, and she feels her orgasm spread white-hot like a forest fire to the tips of her toes and out of her mouth in a scream that’s half-Karla’s name.

As Karla’s own hits, she doesn’t let up with her hand, and moves in tighter and tighter circles as Vanessa chases the aftershocks, then somehow an even faster buildup, and she’s coming again against her wife’s mouth and spilling onto her fingers.

Karla finally stills after that and takes in several gulps of air, pulling her hands away despite Vanessa’s gasp of overstimulation and shaking her wrists out. She circles them once and winces. “Well. It was certainly effective.”

Vanessa takes them both in her hands and kisses the inside of each one. “Oh that was all you, babe.” She kisses the outsides, voice nearly a croak from the strain of shouting. “However can I thank you?”

Karla rolls her shoulders back and presses a kiss to the marks on Vanessa’s neck already beginning to show. “I’d not object to you working your magic on my hands when we get back to the hotel.” She pauses. “And takeout.”

“Yeah, I’m not putting on real clothes for the rest of the day,” Vanessa agrees, slumping forwards and wrapping her arms around Karla’s back to rest her chin on her shoulder. “Numbers better?”

She feels Karla pull her phone out from Vanessa’s pocket and look. There’s a bright, short laugh. “You’re one-eighteen and diagonal downward, darling. Quite the workout, I’d say.”

“An inspiring win for the hashtag tee-one-dee community,” she replies snarkily, quoting the client spotlight template for a diabetic instagram account she follows, half because it’s funny watching vegans abstain from basic culinary pleasures. Karla rubs her hand gently up and down her back, tossing the phone onto the cushion beside them.

“Shall we get the dinner order in, then, before _another_ alarm starts?”

“Please,” she says, but makes no effort to get up as Karla continues rubbing her back, and noses at the soft buzz clipped back just behind her ears. “In a second, though,” she amends. Karla tucks her head into her shoulder and breathes out into the space between them, hand warm and broad and comforting, wholeheartedly agreeing with her wife.


End file.
